The Difference - Christian Leave

Twelve

In this position I had to put my head on his chest. Gosh, this feels nice. He was the kind of person that made comments during movies. Or maybe it was just with me. Either way, he kept explaining things in that adorable way of his. Just to make sure I was understanding his favorite movie. I wonder what my mom is doing right now.

The movie was pretty interesting, and I was actually enjoying it. But, to be honest, it was a little difficult to focus on it when I was cuddling (as he put it) with Christian. He smelled so good. During tense parts of the movie he would flinch the hand that was resting on me, and my breath would hitch. I think he noticed.

There was one part where Leonardo Dicaprio and Amy Adams had a brief, but passionate make out session that would have lead to something. It was awkward enough watching these scenes with my mom, but with a boy?  Calm down. There's no reason to be embarrassed. He's seen this before. I could feel myself blushing. The sounds of the TV got quieter and quieter and I heard Christian's breathing slow down.

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I woke with a start. I dreamt that I had a wonderful time with Christian- wait, this doesn't feel right, this does not feel like a bed.

I opened my eyes and picked up my head. I felt drool. I tried wiping it off of my pillow, and then I realized it was a shirt. On a body. Oh my god, that was real?  And you fell asleep on him??

I looked up at his face. He looked so peaceful and innocent asleep. He was snoring lightly. I could get used to this. I carefully moved his arm off me. I tried to get up slowly, without waking him. I was standing by the couch when his eyelids fluttered open.

"Hey," he said. He had a nice, throaty morning voice. "Josephine."

"G'mornin, sleepy head," I said, ruffling his hair. Wow, was it soft. Our clothes were creased all over and the blankets had slipped onto the ground. I turned off the TV. It was on that blank screen that always shows when a movie is over. I looked back at him.

"What's your mom gonna think of this?" I asked him, kneeling on the floor to be level with his face.

"Oh, it's happened before. She won't care," Christian said sleepily. He put his arms above his head and stretched. Happened before? What does that mean? He sat up, and pushed himself off the couch. He almost fell over, so he grabbed onto me for balance.

"Thank you so much for having me over. I'm sorry I let you fall asleep," he said, looking at me, "you just looked so comfortable."  He winked.  Then he smiled, "But I had a great time." He pushed the hair out of my face and rested his hand on my cheek. "You're quite lovely by the way."

Before I had time to react, he had shown himself out of the house, and was out the door. What the heck just happened? Last night was in a joy-filled blur. I picked up the living room and went over it in my head.

I walked upstairs and went into my room. I sat down in front of my mirror. I peered at the face that looked back at me. She was pale, with small, muddy blue eyes. Light freckles surrounded and covered her nose, which was a little too big. Her skin was not golden, like the perfect girls. It was matte, but luminous, like the moon. Her cheeks were full and innocent. Her ashy brown hair was in chunky strands, because it had been a day since she'd showered. It got lighter at the towards the tips. Was this the face of a girl that Christian could find lovely?

I had heard him tell other girls pretty, but never lovely. I needed to stop thinking about this. I pushed myself off the ground. He never said he liked me in that way, so he must not have feelings for me. He's just my friend. My really nice friend. That smells good.